Bittersweet
by Zinoviya
Summary: L contemplates about how bittersweet his relationship with Beyond is.


Torture.

That's the word that would come to mind if someone saw us at that moment. But, alas, I couldn't help the fact that I loved every second of it, yet it tore me apart.

Rape.

That's another word that would come to mind. But it wasn't, because, well, you know what they say, it's not rape if you like it. I didn't like it, I fucking loved it.

Murder.

That wasn't true either, although I could tell that he dearly wanted to kill me, yet another side that wanted to own and humiliate me kept him from doing it. It was probably killing him on the inside as his blade stabbed deeply into my upper thigh.

Pain.

Now that was true, but it wasn't as bad as it seems. No, I cherished the physical pain that he brought me through his many weapons that were meant to torture, but then again, I'm not like most people, considering my extreme masochism. Maybe that's why I couldn't get enough of him. Maybe that's why I risked coming over to his hideout every week or so to meet with him, even though I knew that we would end up in the exact situation that we were faced with this very moment. That situation being, me chained to the bed and him hovering over me, fucking me senseless while cutting me up.

Bittersweet.

That was the perfect to describe how I feel at the moment. The way he was cutting me up with his butcher knife, bitter, yet somehow sweet. The way he was screwing me, sweet. He paid equal attention to each action, because he knew that he would get more moans, cries, tears, and emotion out of me easier this way, because I enjoyed them both dearly. Originally, he would just cut me up, but when he realized that it was having the opposite effect from the intended, he took on the motto 'If you can't beat them, own them.' Which, as much as I don't want to admit it, he had done. I couldn't leave him if I wanted to, because he had wrapped me around his finger, and manipulated me into becoming his little toy to play with. I loved what he did to me, yet how he completely didn't give a fuck about how I felt and would continue doing this even if I hated it made me practically die inside. But that was how we always were, and always will be. We always looked alike on the outside to other people, yet inside, there's no possible way we could possibly be more different.

He was outgoing, charming when he wanted to be, scary, intimidating, attractive, he never, EVER, gave up, could easily manipulate people, there was no possible way to manipulate him, his emotionless mask was impenetrable and if he showed emotion it was purely because he chose to, and it was pretty much impossible to break him down and own him in any way shape or form.

On the other hand, I was shy, as much as I don't want to admit it, I could never even hope to be charming, I was creepy, but not necessarily scary, not very intimidating, attractiveness is something that I had long ago given up on, the previous fact is proof that it is easy for me to give up, I'm not near as manipulating as he is, it's almost easy to manipulate me, my emotionless mask was easily penetrable, and he had both broken me down and practically started owning me quite a while ago.

I have truly lost to Beyond Birthday.

All of the above is proof to that, even though I know that a lot of it is just a bunch of nonsense that he was using to weaken me and it wasn't true, he still had me believing it. It kills me to know that he's beaten me this badly, but I can't help but realize that fact that this is all because of my idiocy. I had known from the beginning that he would bring me no good, yet I let him into my life. I knew that he would use anything personal to his advantage as much as he could, yet I had told him every little secret about me, and now there's nothing about me that he doesn't know or hasn't used against me.

I had even been enough of a fool to confess my undying love to him.

But that wasn't what made my fall from grace so unbelievable. It was the fact that I knew, I KNEW, that he was going to do all of the horrible things that he's done to me if I confided in him, yet I did it anyways because I was too blinded by love that I didn't want to believe it. I had known that this was going to happen all along, yet I was so tired of the loneliness that I didn't want to pass up the chance to possibly have someone there for me.

Oh, how foolish I had been back in our early teens. How foolish it had been for me to allow myself to grow close to him, let myself believe that he loved me too, even though I knew that I was lying to myself and that in reality, he was just using me to get to his goals.

My thoughts were interrupted by him punching me in the face, causing blood to spurt from my nose. I looked up at him and saw the emotionless yet angry expression on his face, and fear quickly enveloped me. True, as I had said earlier, I was a masochist, but unlike some masochists, I had my limits to the amount of pain I was able to go through before it stopped becoming pleasure, and I knew that he knew just where that line was drawn, and knew exactly how to cross it that would make it as unbearable for me as possible.

I closed my eyes and quickly whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Considering that that's always what you say after you go off into your thoughts, as you always do, it doesn't seem as if you're really sorry," He whispered threateningly as he brought his mouth to the side of my ear and started nibbling gently.

I realized that he was still inside of me after he rammed into me fiercely, purposefully avoiding my prostate. I let out a cry of pain, and so when he realized that he had finally gotten me into a very uncomfortable and painful position, he grabbed the dog collar beside us, put it around my neck, and tightened it until I was gasping for breath. My ankles and wrists were chained to the bed, so that they would be of no use to me in defending myself. I tugged against the chains instinctively so hard that I was sure that it would leave yet another mark. He just chuckled at my feeble attempts to free myself of the collar and said, "Oh Lawliet, you look so much better and desirable when you realize that you're in this much pain."

I couldn't help myself as tears started flowing from my eyes. I knew that it would only encourage him, but there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

He looked like a predator staring down at the prey that he had caught as he dug the butcher knife deep into my uninjured thigh. He dragged it up to the bottom of my neck to where he was making a long and shallow cut along the way. Then he dragged the knife the same way above my abs, not that I had much anymore, from one side to the other. I was whimpering as he made the cuts, and I finally realized what he was trying to hint at. _If you don't behave, I'm going to have to cut you up slowly until you die, or dissect you. It'll be your choice. _

"Now, do you realize what's going to happen if you do this again?" He inquired.

I nodded my head vigorously at the question, hoping that he would take the collar and chains off.

"Good boy," He said emotionlessly. He then took the collar off, which right after I gasped in the largest breath I think I've ever taken in my life, and then the chains and bandaged up my wounded thighs.

I left without ever saying a word after my feeble apology to go back to the building that I had built to help with the Kira case, and I swore to myself that I would never go back there again, as I always do, yet all the while knowing that I would be back in a week or two, just to go through the same bittersweet process all over again.


End file.
